11/6/1999
My mom has been gone for 9 years today.
I say this every year, but it bears repeating. It doesn't get easier. It just hurts in a different way. The excitement is dulled just a little bit with every milestone I experience because she isn't there to share in it.
Yesterday I got my haircut. My stylist asked me a question about my mom and where she lives. The first thought that popped into my head was, "In a plastic bag in a cardboard box at Nana's house" because I'm terrible. It's true, though. But, I had to say she's dead and has been for a long time. Cancer. It just sucks.
Alyssa asked me last weekend how often I think about her.
Every day.
I say this every year, but it bears repeating. It doesn't get easier. It just hurts in a different way. The excitement is dulled just a little bit with every milestone I experience because she isn't there to share in it.
Yesterday I got my haircut. My stylist asked me a question about my mom and where she lives. The first thought that popped into my head was, "In a plastic bag in a cardboard box at Nana's house" because I'm terrible. It's true, though. But, I had to say she's dead and has been for a long time. Cancer. It just sucks.
Alyssa asked me last weekend how often I think about her.
Every day.